


All the Little Lights

by IrisPurpurea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Minor Canonical Character(s), Remadora, jily, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-01-28 20:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12615068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisPurpurea/pseuds/IrisPurpurea
Summary: "We're born with millions of little lights shining in the dark, and they show us the way. One lights up every time we feel love in our hearts. One dies when it goes away." -Passenger, All the Little LightsSnapshots of the Marauder Generation.





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS OR THE SETTING OR EVEN THE OVERARCHING PLOT. All this belongs to JK Rowling and the world of Harry Potter. I'm just here to write out a story that's only been hinted at in the books before.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We begin with their graduation from Hogwarts. It's a midpoint in their story, the point at which they leave their past selves behind and look forward to the future.

Through the scraping of benches on the stone floor rang Hagrid’s voice: “Seventh Years! Seventh Years to the staff table!” And as the rest of the school exited the Great Hall, chattering excitedly about the summer holidays or frantically about last-minute packing, the seventh year students lined up at the front of the room, silently, the air around them fraught with anticipation.

Remus’ stomach twisted into knots. This was the moment. His eyes scanned the Great Hall, trying desperately to take in every detail, to trace the cracks in the stone and count the clouds in the ceiling. Who knew when he’d see those banners, those benches, the flames in those torches again? Who knew if he’d ever be within these walls again, his sanctuary, his home for the last seven years? He lined up with his house, surveying the faces of the fifty students who stood with him. Tomorrow, he knew, some of those faces would cease to be his fellows…

Beside him, Sirius’ eyes were grave. Though yesterday he’d expressed only excitement at the prospect of moving on in the world, that excitement had faded when Dumbledore had pulled him aside that morning along with twelve other students and offered them each a slip of parchment with an address on it, to be used in exactly one month.

He’d silently beckoned them to him as they descended the staircase; they’d ringed him in the entrance hall, stiff-postured and stone-faced. His eyes were darker, his face more lined, but set; he knew what he was asking of them, though it pained him to do it. They’d heard of the Order, of course, for it was hard to miss the obituaries that took up a full page of the Daily Prophet every morning. A flustered Mary Macdonald had immediately refused the slip of parchment; she’d be joining St. Mungo’s as a trainee healer soon. The other eleven of them had agreed without hesitation.

Sirius clenched that parchment in his right hand now, having spent most of the feast thinking of it crumpled against his palm, and stared out the window, lost in contemplation of the world outside it.

Lily, on Remus’ other side, had one hand intertwined with James’ as the other’s fingers tapped feverishly at her side. She bunched her robes in her fist, glancing down the line at the young man hidden behind a curtain of dark hair. He did not return her glance, he never returned her glances, but instead stared fixedly at a point on the wall. She had severed all ties with him two years ago with no regrets, but now that the moment was actually here, the moment when they’d take up arms on the opposite sides of the battlefield, every time she looked at him Lily felt a pang of grief, swiftly stifled by a surge of disgust.

James, noticing where Lily’s gaze was directed, gave her hand what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. She returned it, grateful, perhaps, for his presence, but could not tear her eyes away from Snape. He knew enough about her past with Severus and what he used to mean to her to see how upset she was, even if she tried to hide it. He said nothing, though, knowing any attempt at consolation would sound insincere coming from a man who was itching to join the war against her former friend…

Each House stood lined up before its banners on the wall. Now that all fifty students had made their way to the front, the Heads of House descended from their table and stood before their students. Hogwarts had no real graduation ceremony, Lily recalled, but traditionally the Heads of House, then the Headmaster, would exchange parting words with their students. In each professor’s face was a mixture of pride and concern; after seven long years of raising them, today their students would be released into a world of turmoil.

Professor Sprout was hugging each of her students in turn, tears already spilling from her eyes. Professor Flitwick was chatting animatedly with his Ravenclaws, while Professor Slughorn surveyed imperiously his fine collection of Slytherins. There was a droop to his normally proud mutsache, James observed; perhaps he knew already that five of his twelve beloved students – and Merlin knows how many more – were sure to carry their exceptional talents to the Dark Lord’s side? Beside Snape, Dorcas Meadowes drew Slughorn’s attention, and it was to her that he directed most of his speech. James remembered the proud fire in her eyes as she took the slip of parchment from Dumbledore, the only member of her house who had even been offered it. His attention snapped back to Professor McGonagall as she cleared her throat.

Minerva McGonagall remained silent for a few moments, hands behind her back, lips pursed, surveying her students. Her face relaxed into a smile, and her sharp eyes rounded, filling with sudden emotion. Her charges’ hearts dropped a mile, as they realized exactly who they were saying goodbye to.

“It shouldn’t have to be said that I am immensely proud of every one of you,” she began, her business-like tone failing to hide the gleam in her eyes. “Each of you has grown into a fine person.” A deep breath, and a note of concern in her next words; “You all know very well what you will face in the world outside these doors. The wizarding community is in distress, torn apart by war, a war you…” here she wavered. “A war you… young men and women are about to enter. As Gryffindors,” and here, a note of pride steadied her voice, “as models of courage, loyalty, honor, and pure nerve, we must never shrink from our duty to our fellows, to this school, to the wizarding community and the world at large.” As if on cue, every student straightened his or her posture at these words, carrying themselves now with pride rather than apprehension. Even Peter Pettigrew, she was pleased to see, was standing with no visible signs of nervousness or fear, though she of course could not know how his heart was racing, palms sweating, stomach boiling under his determined expression.

“Good.” She nodded approvingly, surveying her students. “Of course I will be seeing most of you very soon,” catching a glimpse of Mary MacDonald’s abashed expression, she continued, “but each one of you, regardless of where you are, will contribute something valuable to our efforts. Each of you will have a role to play in these coming years…” she paused, a mist creeping over her eyes. Blinking it away, she shook her head, at a loss for how to continue. For ten years now she’d been sending students off into an increasingly explosive war. Once again, she had to send these children, far too young to know this danger, straight into its waiting arms.

“…and I am confident that you are more than capable of rising to whatever challenge.” She continued, clearing her throat, and a proud fire kindled in her eyes. “But first and foremost… take care of yourselves. Be kind to yourselves. Fight… I know you must. But take care of yourselves, all of you.” Her gaze lingered longest on Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, wishing to drill those words into their minds, those two troubled boys who needed it the most. James and Lily, her favorite students though she’d never admit it, Peter and Marlene, talented but always unsure of themselves…

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and McGonagall gave them all a faint smile as she stepped back and raised her wand over her students. Her parting words lingered in the air as Dumbledore began to speak.

“Graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Dumbledore began, “You now leave these halls, armed with ample, even formidable, magical talent.” James later swore Dumbledore’s gaze had alighted on his group at those words, but the moment passed and he continued, “You enter a world at war with itself. On one side, the allies of strength, community, tolerance, and love. On the other, the allies of greed, power, pride, and hatred. When you leave these halls, choose carefully to whom you lend your allegiances.”

Peter whistled under his breath. Dumbledore definitely was not mincing words. And, what’s more, his gaze was definitely firmly fixed on that group of students who stood apart from the rest of Slytherin house, of whom only Mulciber stared defiantly back, while the rest avoided his eyes or studied the pores in the stone floor. Beside them, Dorcas Meadowes too met Dumbledore’s eyes, an affronted expression in hers.

But Dumbledore was speaking again; “It has been a privilege to know you all over the last seven years. Thank you all for being exemplary students, for showing dedication to this school, to your education, and most importantly, to each other.” That proud fire was back in his eyes, and at his words the Heads of House too surveyed their students with admiration. “Now, I formally release you.”

On the word ‘release’, the Heads of House swept their wands over the heads of their students. Their robes flushed with color, deep red, blue, gold, or green. The House Crests sewn onto their robes turned into full Hogwarts Crests, as the Great Hall erupted with the cheers of the students and applause of their professors. This part of the ceremony, Lily recalled from Hogwarts, A History, was only added about 50 years ago, a favorite idea of previous Headmaster Armando Dippet, apparently appropriated from the practices of much more ceremonial American schools. The colored robes were supposed to be tokens representing the completion of their magical education, and donning their House colors signified the development of their character. It was a shame, she thought, that the beautiful crimson of her robes clashed horribly with her hair.

“Now go forth!” Dumbledore bellowed over the tumult, “and represent the good name of Hogwarts School in all you do!” With those words the whole class flooded, still cheering, into the Entrance Hall.

Their trunks had been carried down to the train, Lily remembered with a sigh, rolling her eyes at Alice’s sympathetic chuckle at her appearance. Hagrid’s towering form emerged from the Great Hall and strode through the vibrant students milling about his waist, his eyes already swimming with tears. “Alright, to the boats with ye lot. Go on!” He gave a great sniff. “No more ‘n four to a boat! Yer all so much bigger now…”

Sirius caught Hagrid’s eye and gave him a wink. “No tears, Hagrid! We’ll see you soon!”

“I oughta separate you two,” Hagrid chuckled, nodding at James and Sirius, “Or we’ll all capsize this time!”

“We won’t do it this time Hagrid! Honest!”

Hagrid just raised an eyebrow at them as they flooded through the doors and spilled onto the grounds. The seventh years ran whooping and cheering across the grass, under a brilliant blue sky, the wind seemingly lifting them off their feet. Lily pulled James along behind her, Remus grabbed Sirius’ hand and stumbled to keep up, while Snape lagged behind, tripping towards the fleet of boats that awaited them on the Black Lake.

Lily pulled James into a boat at the back of the fleet, which rocked in greeting. James laughed, “I think it remembers me! Sirius, come on!” Sirius and Remus clambered in behind them, making the boat rock once again. Remus chuckled and patted its side.

“Sorry, Pete!” Lily called to an out-of-breath Peter, who could only gasp and shake his head in response as he fell into a boat behind Alice and Marlene. Lily glanced behind her and saw Severus hunched alone in a boat, chin on his knees, staring at the castle. She wrenched her gaze away, determined not to look at him again, instead focusing her gaze on the distant image of Gryffindor tower.

Hagrid climbed into the largest boat, called “forward!” and the boats sped of their own accord across the lake. As they glided away from the shore, the chatter fell silent for a few moments, as every head turned to watch the receding castle, gleaming in the sunlight, winking goodbye. The thought behind each pair of eyes was the same; they were watching their past fade away as they were swallowed by their future…

Lily leaned into James’ chest as she watched the grand castle perched on the mountain grow smaller in the distance. She could remember her elation seven years ago, when their class emerged from that copse of trees on the path and the glowing castle revealed itself against the night sky. She could hear the awed whispers of her eager classmates as they milled around her, Hagrid guiding them to the shores of the vast lake, his boots crunching on the gravel. Every sound, every smell, every sight from that day was ingrained forever in her mind, the day she entered an entirely new world, and made the decision never to leave it behind. And now, not at all the same person as she was then, she was preparing to fight for that world…

She settled further into James’ chest with a sigh, and he wrapped his arms around her, tucking his chin to press his lips to her forehead. Sirius threw an arm around Remus, who resignedly leaned against him. She chuckled at her friends as a wistful contentment stole over her, her eyes fixed again on the castle in the distance. “D’you think we’ll ever see it again?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Sirius chimed in, “’course we will! When the war’s over, and Remus here becomes the greatest Defense professor Hogwarts has ever known…”

Remus arched an eyebrow at that comment, wanting to protest but steamrolled by Sirius’ imagination.

“… but he’ll have broken the jinx by then, of course, and we’ll all be famous Aurors of course, so we’ll come visit, give guest lectures about our greatness…”

Remus just laughed and shook his head. “Who said I’m gonna be a professor? And even if I was, why the hell would I invite you to lecture my class?”

“Well you’ll need some outlet for your natural talent, Moony, since you flat-out refused to join the Aurors…”

Remus’ smile faded, and everyone else’s followed suit as they lapsed into silent contemplation again. In a month, a few of their classmates, Alice and Dorcas among them, would report to the Ministry, some for Auror training, some for Department jobs, all eager to join the resistance. Despite the protests of his friends, Remus knew it would be difficult for him to find a place within this resistance, too difficult to join the Aurors or even keep a day job at the Ministry. If it weren’t for Dumbledore’s insistence, or the prospect of never seeing his friends again, he’d never even have joined the Order…

James wanted desperately to convey to his friend that he’d be alright, knowing too well the expression on Remus’ face, but couldn’t bring himself to break the reverent silence as the boats bumped gently against the shore. Clambering out of the boats, the new graduates stood for one last look on the majestic castle on the hill in the distance, till the distant whistle of the train cleaved through the silence and they turned and filed along the narrow stone path choked with trees…

As the train raced away from Hogwarts, Sirius challenged the entire compartment to a massive game of Exploding Snap, which upset Nigel so much that he clawed everyone’s legs before Peter had the sense to let him into the next compartment. They passed their last train ride together laughing uproariously, and on the platform Lily kissed James goodbye, then at an offended look from Sirius, laughed again and kissed him, then Remus, then Peter on the cheek before Disapparating home. Tonight they’d each spend time with their families, Sirius and James at the Potter residence, Peter with his parents, and Remus with his. They would spend the month apart before fishing those crumpled slips of parchment from their nightstands and setting off to find Dumbledore...

With assurances that they’d see each other soon enough, the Marauders departed King’s Cross for the world beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nigel is the name of Lily's cat. I also totally headcanon that Nigel is actually Crookshanks but we'll get to that later.


	2. The Longest Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been four years since they graduated, four years since the end of the beginning. One year since they fell apart. Those left over meet at the beginning of the end.

_October 31st, 1982_

The entire village of Godric’s Hollow, and then some, has turned out, it seems. They mill about, whispering as loudly as they can manage over the whipping wind without talking outright. They probably think it would be irreverent to talk. They stare at it, point to it, trace it with their fingers, name the figures carved in stone before them with too much reverence. There’s too much reverence here, as the tiny man takes the podium. Too much silence; as he raises his hands it swoops down and suffocates them, stifling silence, overbearing emotion, exuberant grief. All chatter is smothered, all laughter is stifled; it’s inappropriate to laugh, even though they’re here to mourn a man to whom laughter meant the world.

The few of them hang back from the crowd, conceal themselves in shadows, behind trees, still and silent and lost in contemplation. If the crowd saw them, they’d become part of the spectacle, poked and prodded and trapped in a glass box for all the village to ogle. When they catch each other in a glimpse, they nod once to say they know, they feel exactly the same way, and for now they’d rather feel it alone.

The words of the tiny Ministry man weave in and out of their thoughts. “We are gathered here today… to mourn the loss… of Lily. And. James. Potter.” It’s cruel that he pauses, as if to ensure that their names sink in. Believe us, it’s definitely sinking in. It’s been sinking in, and we’ve been sinking for one year now…

“They gave their lives…” no. Their lives were given away. Taken by someone to whom they didn’t belong, and given without their consent. “… so that the terror of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may be finally vanquished.” They scoff, exchange dark looks with each other. His name still cannot be spoken aloud. The terror is nowhere close to being vanquished. “We dedicate this statue in their honor… Through this statue, through their home, which shall also be preserved…they will live on.”

No. Their myth, the Legend of Lily and James, would live on, enshrined in a pile of rubble. Lily and James would not.

“And to young Harry… wherever he may be…” Where was he? Why wasn’t he here, with one of them instead of with… them? They would’ve held him in their arms, pressed his tiny palm to the side of the statue, pointed out his likeness in stone, whispered the story of his past in his ear and made sure he never forgot it…

“I wish you, we wish you, the world wishes you… good luck.” He clambers down from the platform. The village bursts into applause and sympathy. They stare at the statue, point it out to their children again, whip quills out of their bags and run off to the pile of rubble that was to be their legacy. And soon the cameras leave, the people fade away, until only they remain, in their corners, in their shadows, behind their trees, looking and looking at the statue and not wanting to stop. 

They emerge from their shadows and approach each other, converging at a point before the monument, not breaking their stares. They stand huddled together in the biting wind. They look silently together at James, Lily, forever in his arms, and Harry, forever in hers, forever caught in their tender gaze. They shuffle closer together.

Minerva McGonagall. Augusta Longbottom. Rubeus Hagrid. Remus Lupin.

And Heather Pettigrew.

Heather stands with her back to the statue, wrapping her arms around herself. She came here looking for solace, but instead she has been wronged and she cannot bear to face it. The others steal glances at it as they think of what to say, but she remains facing away from it. Remus looks at Minerva, an accusation burning in his eyes. “What was his excuse?”

Minerva shrugs, weariness creasing her forehead. “My dear Minerva, let me assure you… that I could not bear to face it.” It’s a solid impression of Albus Dumbledore’s dry manner.

“Ha.” His voice is harsh, the words have a bitter taste. “More like he couldn’t face us. Not after… everything…” he lapses into silence, combing his fingers furiously through his hair. What he wouldn’t give for some acknowledgment, any acknowledgment, from Dumbledore, a kind word, a visit, an apology…

“It wasn’t Albus’ fault, Remus.” Augusta glares darkly around their little circle. The knot in Remus’ stomach twists even tighter at her words. It will never go away.

  
“There’s only one person to be held responsible. For all of this, everything. You know that.” Heather’s voice is still in brittle shards; it hasn’t been put back together in a year. Her icy words pierce Remus’ side and he grimaces, trying to suppress a surge of revulsion.

“No, don’t look like that!” Heather continues, eyeing them all defiantly. “Am I to fear his name too? Sirius!” she shouts to the wind, and Minerva’s face contorts. “Sirius Black! He killed Lily and James Potter! He killed my boy! He killed-

“That’s quite enough, Heather,” Hagrid growls. Remus, glancing around, sees that Hagrid looks slightly green, and Minerva’s mouth is stretched taut, eyes over-bright.

“And where’s his statue? Where will my Peter be honored? Why isn’t his name mentioned? Why doesn’t he get a memorial, for vanquishing another great evil…” the brief passion in her voice cracks and fades under Hagrid’s withering glare. Her fearful eyes dart around their circle, landing on Minerva, then Remus. “I’m sorry.” Her whisper is barely audible, but it’s clear she does not mean it. “I know you all love him-

Remus closes his eyes to stop the world from spinning, takes a long breath through his nose, the cool air slashes his dry throat, another surge of revulsion contorts his face… Heather remains silent.

“I hate these things.” Augusta speaks again after a few moments, directing her words carefully into the distance. “All publicity, all spectacle… all this solemnity and ceremony without a real thought given to the families… and friends,” she adds, with a nod in Remus’ direction, “as though we’d accept a statue or a monument or a ceremony in their place…”

Remus’ eyes fly open, his gaze snaps to Augusta. She is staring at the statue without really seeing it, twisting her fingers together behind her back. He knows what she is imagining in its place. “Anything?” he asks, knowing perfectly well the answer, but hoping anyway that he is wrong.

Augusta shakes her head, digging her toe into the earth. “No. Nothing. They’re moving about a bit… and they respond dimly to feeding and certain cues, but… nothing.”  
A moment of silence, and then she adds, her voice finally breaking, “they say they’ll never recognize him, or me, or each other… never speak again… it’s nearly been a year… at this rate it’ll never happen…” she closes her eyes and draws a long breath, trying to find her steely composure again.

Remus stares hard at his shoes, sorry he’d asked. Minerva grips her shoulder, tears finally escaping her eyes. “Where’s Neville, Augusta?”

“Algie’s got him today.” She chuckles slightly, clapping her hand over Minerva’s on her shoulder. “He’s under explicit orders to leave him well alone.” The brief smiles soon fade, and they stand in silence for another moment.

“How’s Harry doing, Professor?” Hagrid asks gruffly. The atmosphere tenses, as though the village itself is holding its breath, but there is nothing left to do but change the subject, and nothing else on anyone’s minds but him. “Have you been to Arabella’s lately?”

Minerva sighs, tracing a finger across her cheek. “He’s alright,” her tone does not reassure them, “they left him with her for a couple days while they went to visit Vernon’s sister. He seems well fed, he’s sleeping properly… Petunia at least seems to be caring for him.”

Remus scoffs. From what he’d heard of Petunia – and Vernon – from Lily, that isn’t bound to last much longer. Minerva confirms his suspicions with a grim nod.

“Thankfully he’s still too young to realize he’s unwanted…” she shakes her head, her voice quivering, “but I fear for the day he finally understands that they don’t want him…”

“If he’d have just gone to you, Minerva,” Remus ruffles his hair again, gritting his teeth in frustration. “Or even you, Augusta…” he sighs, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

“He’ll be protected by his magic, Remus,” Hagrid reassures him, “and by Lily’s love, an’ Dumbledore’s charms. An’ he’ll grow up at least knowin’ who he is, an’ who his parents were, an’ what they did for him… I trust Dumbledore.” He eyes them all, daring them to challenge him. None return his gaze, though Minerva nods to her feet. “I trust Albus Dumbledore. He’d never ‘ave put ‘im there if it weren’t completely necessary. I know it. Though,” he adds as an afterthought, “I’ll be havin’ some words with that Vernon Dursley if he shows up to Hogwarts harmed at all…”

Minerva gives him a light smile. “He’s quite the energetic young man, you know, chasing Arabella’s cats around. And he already looks so much like James… except for the eyes. He’s got Lily’s eyes.” She addresses the statue, tilting her head slightly as she considers it. She chuckled, mostly to herself. “Arabella says I’m his favorite cat… He knows me as ‘Minnie’… sometimes he actually reminds me of-

She cuts herself off, throwing a fearful glance at Remus, whose face suddenly seems to be etched in stone. Minerva falls silent, twisting something absentmindedly around her finger.

Remus, staring vacantly at her, catches a glint of gold in the light of the setting sun, and all else is suddenly driven from his mind.

“Minerva!” his eyes widen as he points to her hands. “Where on earth did you get that?”

“Oh, right,” she presses her lips together, trying not to look too pleased, but a dull red tinges her cheeks. She lifts her hand, displaying the gold band on her ring finger.

“You’re married?” Remus yelps, staring at her incredulously. She lets a small smile escape as Augusta claps her on the shoulder, and Heather gasps. “When did this happen?”

“Over the summer,” Hagrid answers, patting Minerva on the back so her knees nearly give way. “Elphinstone finally managed to convince her to accept his proposal. It was a long time coming, I tried to convince her to ages ago…” Hagrid simply beams at her, a twinkle in his eyes.

“You remember Elphinstone, yes? He came to James and Lily’s wedding with me… it was a quiet ceremony, just family on either side, my brothers, his daughter…”

“An’ Dumbledore, o’ course, an’ Sprout… Flitwick… Madam Pomfrey… ” Hagrid grins, “and me,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Like I said. Just family.” Beside her, Hagrid’s face flushes red.

“And you didn’t think to mention this before?” Remus shakes his head. “Merlin knows we could’ve used some more cheerful news today…”

“I didn’t think it would be too appropriate,” Minerva frowns, “given the circumstances…”

“You know James and Lily would’ve been thrilled to hear it…” he scuffs the heel of his shoe in the dirt. “At any rate, they’d have welcomed anything to break up that awful solemn silence…” He smiles at her, genuine warmth growing within him after a long absence. “Congratulations, Minerva. Truly. I hope you have a long and wonderful life together.” He raises an invisible glass and Minerva grins in approval.

“Hear, hear!” Hagrid too raises an imaginary tankard, and, shaking their heads with half-smiles, Augusta and Heather follow suit.

“But you are still teaching, right?” Remus asks just to be absolutely sure, knowing full well it would take a lot more than a marriage to pull Minerva McGonagall away from Hogwarts.

“Of course!” she replies, “Elphinstone has bought a cottage for us in Hogsmeade…” she blushes slightly again, “you’re welcome to visit any time you like.” This with a pointed glance at Remus, knowing how slim the chances were of him taking her up on that offer.

Silence steals upon them again as the sun sets, and they one by one cast their gazes upon the statue, even Heather, whose sharp edges seem to have softened for now. No more conversation flares between them; there’s nothing left to say. But as the sun shifts in the sky they find that the darkness that had settled so comfortably in their hearts just a half hour ago has loosened its grip just a bit, that suddenly they’re reluctant to go their separate ways when before they’d longed to be left alone.

Lily, James, and little Harry are bathed in an orange glow, and they look and they look and they drink it in, living in each other’s company until the sun dips below the horizon, and in the cold and the rushing darkness they exchange goodbyes, embraces, half-hearted promises to visit soon. One by one, they turn and disapparate away.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heather is the name I gave Mrs. Pettigrew in my head. I headcanon that McGonagall dropped in to visit Mrs. Figg every now and then, and dropped by in cat form to check on Harry whenever Mrs. Figg got to babysit him. McGonagall did actually get married to Elphinstone Urquhart according to Pottermore. Remus lived in isolation for the next 12 years. By this time hope will have been lost for Alice and Frank's recovery.


	3. Escape From Azkaban

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably be adding chapters out of order and rather sporadically for this, unfortunately, but that's just how they're getting written. I'll go back and fill in the gaps, write about their Hogwarts years a bit and the years in between and those after. For now, here's Sirius Black.

_July 31, 1993_

Maybe the other inmates had caught a glimpse of the bone-thin black dog darting past their cells. Sirius didn’t care. Somewhere in what remained of his mind he registered that they were probably insane enough not to notice. _I’m innocent. I’m innocent. He’s at Hogwarts._

He could sense that he’d confused the Dementors, but that was fading fast. They were homing in on his presence, reaching through the air and grasping for his mind as he ran from them. Their cold aura swarmed him, sharpened around him as air rushed past his ears. An icy fist grabbed his heart and squeezed, his breath came in sharp gasps that pierced his sides, but they could not grasp his soul tight enough to coax it away from his body. In his Animagus form, they could barely sense he even had one.

He stopped short, tripping over his paws, as a cavernous blackness suddenly loomed before him. A few feet away, the stones of the floor vanished into it. He sensed the Dementors drawing back, as though they were watching him, waiting. He shook his head, trying to clear them away, but they were unrelenting, feeling around for his mind from a distance. He shook his head again, concentrated all his efforts on wrenching his thoughts away from them, and with a split-second shock of clarity he realized he was staring into a night sky from which the Dementors had sucked the stars. Either the wall had been blown away long ago or the Ministry had never seen a need for one in the first place.

The next moment, the air behind him shifted, and a sense of overwhelming despair engulfed him, swirling in his mind and roaring in his ears. He staggered toward the edge, limping, dragging his body, and peered into the starless void; he could just disappear into it, into the darkness, he’d fall and fall until he ended up with Lily and James… Lily and James, who were killed-

 _NO_. His foot slipped and hung in the air, it took every ounce of his flickering will to scrabble backward. _HE’S AT HOGWARTS. I’M INNOCENT_. The thought was his lifeline, he used it to pull himself backward, to steady himself against the ferocious wind now rushing at his back. The Dementors were enraged again, and had fixed on his presence. Their cold fury broke across his back in waves. _I’M INNOCENT. I’M INNOCENT_. They couldn’t paralyze him for long. His eyes darted to the left and found an opening in the wall, a staircase. There were stone steps receding into the darkness.

 _IT WAS PETER._ He flung himself sideways, into the opening as the dementors closed in around him. _I’M INNOCENT_. His paws couldn’t navigate the steps, and instead he slid down on his stomach and landed in a heap at the bottom, where two more dementors awaited him. Their rotten, glistening fingers reached out to grab him, but they couldn’t sense where he was. All they knew was that a vague, subhuman sentience stood before them. One hand flew past his nose, another barely missed his twitching ear. Then his eyes locked onto a sliver of deep purple sky in the distance, framed by the tendrils of the dementors’ robes. The cold around him tightened, grew sharper still, as more dementors flooded down the stairs behind him. He had no other choice.

 _I’M INNOCENT._ He plunged forward, darting between the dementors as they reached blindly for him. The air around him became thick, syrupy, as though he’d plunged into a river mid-thaw. His lungs seemed to vanish, he couldn’t draw breath. They had him trapped, they were closing in, searing tendrils of their cloaks lashed around his ankles. But still, they couldn’t grasp his soul.

 _I’m innocent. I’m innocent._ His vision became grainy, darkening around the edges. _Peter killed James and Lily. He’s at Hogwarts. And I need to get to him. Let. Me. GO!_

It was enough. The dementors’ grip loosened for a fraction of a second, and with one last almighty wrench, he flung himself free. Their cloaks slipped from his ankles, he wrested a gasping breath from their clutches. The fire that burned steadily in his mind, the hunger for revenge, was something they could neither take from him nor use against him. He could feel the pull of the dementors recede as he skidded towards what he could now recognize as a doorway he hadn’t seen in twelve years.

Then the ragged black dog shot out from the doorway and into the moonlight, slid down the rocky shore slick with spray, and plunged into the black waves of the sea.

The water was freezing, the wind stirred the sea and beat his back, and he shivered violently as he clung to a boulder. But this was not, he realized with a surge of gratitude, the paralyzing chill of the dementors that left him limp and listless. He could feel himself shaking, his teeth were chattering, his ears standing alert. There was no longer a dead weight compressing his chest, and though every breath still came in gasps, each filled his lungs with clean, fresh air. He hung there, braced against that wonderfully wet boulder, feeling his chest rise and fall as it filled with air, feeling his pounding heart, pumping strength into his every limb.

But the effects of the dementors still lingered on that rock, and as his senses adjusted to their newfound freedom, he could feel the creeping malaise under his skin, the dull throbbing of despair in his ears. They wouldn’t leave the walls of the fortress without explicit orders, but they’d realize which of their prey had escaped soon enough when they drifted by his cell in their search and no longer sensed a presence there. And if they caught him then, he’d be worse than dead. Scanning the horizon, he detected the faint, glowing outline of a coastline in the distance. Azkaban had one entrance, he recalled, and could be approached from only one point. He needed to move, and soon.

A grating, guttural screech suddenly rent the night sky. The dementors had realized his absence. The thrill of horror their cries sent through him was enough to propel him forward, and he kicked off the rock with his back legs as another cry pierced the air.

He paddled frantically, soon losing sight of that distant point as the waves threatened to overwhelm him. One crashed over his head, filling his mouth and nose with water-

_Go on, Sirius. You first._

_What’s that, James? Are you scared?_

_Are_ you _scared?_

_You wish._

_SPLASH._

He burst to the surface, startled, just as another wave loomed over him. As it crashed over his head, the image suddenly bloomed in his mind.

No, it wasn’t just an image. The realization swelled in him and he burst from the water again, gasping. It was a memory. The dementors’ twelve-year hold on his soul was slipping, and he remembered.

He was standing at the edge of a great black lake – no, _the_ Black Lake – with two other boys beside him… James! And Remus! Their faces swam into his mind and he kicked hard, propelling himself forward through the waves as though they were waiting for him on the shore. He remembered, he remembered and strength coursed through his veins.

They’d snuck out that night under James’ new cloak, in February of their first year. Peter had refused to wake from a stubborn slumber. Now the three of them stood, each daring the other to jump in first. One moment, Remus was at their side, and the next he’d disappeared into the water. Startled, Sirius had gripped James’ hand, and now he felt James’ hand in his, pulling him towards the shore…

They’d peered, stricken, into the depths of the lake. Remus had seemingly vanished. Then suddenly, his face had popped out of the water, wearing a devilish grin, and before Sirius knew it, he had been pulled along with James into the lake with an almighty-

 _CRASH_. Another wave broke against him and the image dissolved in his mind, but immediately twenty other moments blossomed in its place like fireworks. He and James fleeing the muggle police on his motorbike while laughing uproariously. He and Remus clutching each other for support, doubled over with silent giggles as James and Lily’s Patronuses circled each other in the Great Hall. Lily’s delighted face when Sirius snuck her into the hospital wing to see James with antlers sprouting from his head. He remembered the reluctant amusement that flickered under the surface of McGonagall’s sternest look. He remembered being wrapped in Mrs. Potter’s embrace as Mr. Potter set a mug of tea on the kitchen table before him, into which he’d slipped a shot of firewhiskey without his wife’s knowledge. He remembered the weight and warmth of his baby godson in his arms! He remembered, he remembered, and the memories shielded him from the fearsome waves, warmed him though the water was cold, pushed him onward though his legs were numb.

And at last as his paws began to scrape silt, they struck against pebbles and dug through the rising sand until he could finally stand on all fours again. He couldn’t resist letting out a joyous bark. He splashed onto the sandy shore, dimly registered that although the dementors had sounded the alarm, the Ministry had not yet come to answer their cries. They were no more than distant vultures to him now. They would not leave their posts unless ordered.

With the last drops of strength left in his limbs, he hauled himself into a scraggly patch of bushes, concealed in the shadow of a rather large boulder. This, he thought, would do quite nicely. He closed his eyes, and Sirius Black grew out of the form of the black dog, still looking every bit as gaunt and ragged, and began to laugh. He lay in the shadowed sand as decades of happy moments flooded his heart and guffawed as he hadn’t in over a decade, gasping for breath, tears streaming from his eyes, sides clenched and aching. At last with copious wheezing and dry coughs that wracked his body, he stumbled to a stop and lay staring at the stars, sinking deeper into a satisfied exhaustion. Just before his eyes closed Sirius stirred up enough energy to transform once again.

The weathered black dog lay quite still and peaceful in the sand, ears and tail twitching as the deepest happiness filled his dreams. Sirius was dancing at James’ wedding, waltzing, with Remus and his mischievous smile as lights danced in his golden-brown hair, with James and his glaring grin as tears sparkled in his eyes, with beautiful Lily as she threw back her head and laughed. He laughed with Alice and Frank as they watched James zooming through the air on a broomstick. He knelt in the gray light of the Shrieking Shack and pushed Remus’s curls away from his eyes with one hand, taking his hand gingerly in the other. He pelted across the snowy courtyard and barreled into a bewildered James, wrapping him in a ferocious hug. He felt his heart skip a beat when Lily announced she was pregnant; he bounded toward her and kissed her forehead as she grinned. He felt cocooned in the arms of James’ parents, their warmth soothing his sobs. He saw the glint of steely pride in Minerva’s eyes as she surveyed him in the Great Hall on his last day at Hogwarts. He remembered, he remembered them, and their faces filled him with a steady fire.

Sirius awoke as though surfacing from the depths of a warm ocean. He lay floating there for a while as graying dawn crept over the sky. Then a _crunch_ near his head brought him abruptly back to firm ground. Footsteps, agitated whispers, filled the air around him. As they swung past him and faded into the distance, he stood and crept from the bushes. The sun was just rising to light that unholy sea on fire, and North was directly ahead of him. He took a few tentative steps, then broke into an earnest trot.

_I’m innocent. He’s at Hogwarts. He’s at Hogwarts._


	4. On Halloween Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized lines are taken from the book, word for word. I do not own italicized dialogue.

_October 31, 1993_

_The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle._ Remus drew a deep breath to steady himself, clenched his wand in his fist and stared fixedly at Dumbledore’s silhouette through the crack in the great double doors. Even so he could feel the malevolence radiating from Severus Snape beside him, crashing against him in wave after wave.

 _I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately._ The air beside Remus shifted, Severus had stepped closer. The dementors had been barred from the grounds, but still the air around him froze.

_Oh, yes, you’ll be needing…_

“Rest assured, Remus,” Snape’s silky hiss was barely audible over the dull thuds of tables and benches being stacked against the walls. “If I find you had anything to do with this…”

Remus took another long breath, swallowing a shudder of revulsion, as Dumbledore stepped in front of them and the door snapped shut softly behind him.

“Right,” Albus pressed his fingertips together, surveying the staff huddled before him. It was clear his mind was racing, moving farther and farther away. A wild, irrational hope seized Remus for an instant, that he’d be asked to leave, that he’d be permitted to just go to sleep.

“Argus, to the secret passages, please, and a sweep of the dungeons.” Dumbledore nodded to Filch, who hobbled off muttering excitedly to himself, lantern held aloft and Mrs. Norris slinking about his heels.

“The rest of us must split away, search all seven floors, all towers, all corridors, all classrooms, all suits of armor.” There was an urgency in his tone that Remus hadn’t heard in a long time. “Minerva, stay with me, please. Filius, take a few others to the top three floors, then the Owlery. Pomona, lead a search of the greenhouse and grounds. Alert Hagrid; have him watch the forest. Severus, take the rest to the second, third, and fourth.”

There was time for no more than a curt nod before Dumbledore sped away, without so much as a glance at Remus, without any sort of acknowledgment. Severus turned to face Flitwick. Remus barely registered their terse exchange as he watched Dumbledore’s and Minerva’s rapidly retreating figures, a swelling guilt and shame squeezing his heart.

“Lupin!” Snape’s bark snapped him back to the present. Severus’ lip curled with malice, his black eyes glinted in the half-light. “You’re on the third floor. Professor Trelawney, Madam Sinistra, to your towers, then to the fourth for a sweep of the corridors.” With that he turned smartly on his heel and swept up the staircase, wand aloft. Remus hesitated for a moment, but the urgent gazes of his colleagues struck his back and propelled him forward to limp on after Snape.

They proceeded upward in mutual, unprotested silence, punctuated only by the soft flapping of Snape’s robes against his ankles. They reached the second floor without incident and Snape turned to proceed down the corridor, wandlight held aloft, while Remus made his way to the third. Remus’ heart was hammering in earnest now, despite his furious efforts to quiet it with his thoughts. It accelerated every time he peered inside a broom cupboard or brushed aside a curtain with trembling fingertips and faded when he found nothing there.

“Stop this,” he muttered to himself. His breath came in short, sharp gasps now, the cold air stinging his throat. His fingers fluttered with restless energy, his wand arm trembled, and he could barely feel his feet as he crept through the corridors. “Stop it! You’re being ridiculous, Remus. You’re imagining things. He’s _not_ going to be here.” If the man had any sense, and Remus knew he did, he’d have fled by now. But he couldn’t have left the school grounds.

Or couldn’t he? Could his ability allow him to slip undetected past the dementors at his whim? The thought arrested him, he stumbled to a stop in the middle of the hall, once again overtaken by that wrenching feeling of guilt. He ought to have told Dumbledore the minute he set foot in this school, no, the minute Dumbledore had set foot in his home. He closed his eyes and took long, shuddering breaths through his nose, desperate to calm his jangling nerves, to ease the swooping nausea that had momentarily lifted him off his feet.

After too long, he felt, he forced his eyes open again and stood still, tense, as they adjusted to the dim light of his wand. Putting one foot tentatively before the other, he made his uneasy way down the rest of the corridor, pausing to peer into corners and classrooms, always half expecting to see a dark, gaunt figure crouched and waiting there. But he met no one.

Now the third floor was complete, and he turned around for a second sweep, feeling slightly calmer, enough to let his thoughts wander a bit. He supposed most of the students thought it a lucky coincidence that Sirius Black had chosen this night to appear. Perhaps he’d not realized it was Halloween, had forgotten his favorite feast of the year… but Remus knew the truth. It was only appropriate that he chose this night to attempt his revenge.

He swept his wand slowly from left to right, making sure the wide beam fell on every figure, every shadow in his path. What had Dumbledore expected? What had Remus himself expected? To find Black? To confront him, overpower him? He’d be wandless after all, unless he’d managed to steal one, but he’d ravaged the painting with a knife. And the dementors apparently hadn’t at all managed to sap his strength…

What could he have done, had his wandlight found the form it was seeking? For a savage moment he imagined pointing his wand carefully into that wasted face, stunning him between those sunken eyes, personally dragging his body to the dementors in chains. The next second his vision swam, his knees nearly buckled, a wave of nauseating hatred left him weary and empty.

More likely he’d stop, frozen on the spot, staring. What would burn in his eyes? Malice, hunger, a glint of recognition? And then the bat-like form of Severus Snape would swoop down and whisk him away, and a small piece of the great weight on his chest would be lifted. Would he protest in that split second? Would he have the gall to plead his innocence? But Death Eaters are not cowards. And Sirius Black owned his every deed.

“Lupin!”

Remus flinched violently, twisting his neck as his wandbeam bounced off a portrait. Wincing, rubbing the aching spot, he silently thanked Severus for bringing him abruptly back to solid ground. For he realized he’d been spiraling into darkness with his thoughts, as his wandlight remained fixed on a dusty patch of carpet.

“Well?” Severus hissed, “anything?”

“No,” Remus sighed, lowering his wand and passing a hand over his eyes. Snape cocked his head, studying Remus with evident distaste. “I’ve already searched your office, Lupin. I suggest you return there. Now.”

“I could have spared you the effort, Severus,” Remus retorted in a whisper. “He’s most certainly not in there.”

Nothing in Snape’s expression showed he believed Remus in the slightest. But he inclined his head nonetheless. “Of course, Professor.” Without another word he turned and disappeared into the darkness. Remus heard his soft footsteps on the staircase descending into the night.

In any other circumstance, Remus would’ve followed him back to Dumbledore before spending the rest of the night scanning the vast grounds. Snape’s pointedly threatening tone and his own profound exhaustion won over, and he stumbled back to his office on Snape’s orders. Delirious visions swam in his mind of emaciated bodies dredged from the Black Lake in the early hours of the morning, of wraiths flitting between the trees of the Forbidden Forest, of suits of armor swinging their axes at unsuspecting students as they roamed the halls tomorrow. Sirius Black was nowhere to be found, and yet he was everywhere, constantly looming over him.

“Nox,” he whispered as he turned the handle. For a split second every muscle in his body tensed as his eyes scanned the room, but there was no dark figure huddled in a corner, nothing under his desk, and only an eerie green glow from the grindylow’s tank. As far as Remus knew, he was gone.

Remus trudged up the short staircase to his office, collapsed into his bed, and within moments had drifted off into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of huddled, whispering shadows with sunken yellow eyes.


End file.
